


Price of Peace

by MarvelousMenagerie (HiddenOne)



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, warlord au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 14:21:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16855600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenOne/pseuds/MarvelousMenagerie
Summary: Tony has been traded to an alpha warlord in return for peace. However, the warlord Steven has no use for Tony, and has gifted Tony to his general, James.





	Price of Peace

**Author's Note:**

> 100% inspired by sabrecmc's warlord!Steve ideas & drabbles for Stony on tumblr.

The flap to the tent opens, and a man steps inside. Tony straightens where he’s sitting on the pile of bed furs, but doesn’t look up. He’s been trained better, and he can scent the air anyway.

Alpha.

Tony’s skin prickles and he tries to stop himself fidgeting. Still, the golden bangles on his ankle jingle together, giving him away. Tony would curse his wearing them, but his mother had been the one to place them on him in what potentially be their last moment together.  

_Be smart, my son. Be safe,_  she had whispered to him after she kissed his cheeks.

Tony quiets his movement, but even his mother’s advice doesn’t stop him from risking a quick peek at the alpha who will claim him tonight.

The alpha is shedding his leathers in the corner, his side to Tony. The man is handsome, at least, with broad shoulders and a tall, muscular frame. Tony notes a strong jaw, covered as it is by a beard, and plush lips. The man’s dark brown hair is tied back, but a few loose ends escape to frame his face.

Tony frowns. He hadn’t been invited to the negotiations, being the fragile omega that he is, but he’d heard the whispered rumors of the servants.

The warlord from the north was tall and broad with  _blond_ hair and blue eyes.

The alpha turns towards Tony and catches Tony’s gaze. He has the blue eyes then, piercing and cold, but not the sunlit hair that so many had gossiped over.

“You are not Lord Steven,” Tony accuses. His hands clench into fists causing the bangles adorning his wrists, matching those on his ankles, to chime.

“No,” the alpha rasps.

Tony stands so he can better face off against the alpha. He tips his chin up, because even though he has been traded as a prize to a warlord, he was raised a prince. Even if Tony only stands before him in sheer red fabric that hides nothing and reveals everything to the alpha’s gaze, a more regal version of that found in omega whorehouses.

“Then I am not for you,” Tony declares, shoulders back.

The alpha snorts and turns from Tony. He sheds the last of his armor, including his undershirt.

Tony bites his tongue as the alpha’s blackened left arm is revealed. It functions as a normal arm, moving and gripping and working like the other, but the skin is black as if burnt, from the shoulder down to the tip of the fingers.

Tony had heard rumors about this one too, then. But these rumors came from the guards, not the servants, speaking of a man with a black arm, wreathed in shadows and having demon-given strength.

The alpha grabs a fresh long-sleeved shirt, slipping it on and covering up most of the arm. The black left hand is left exposed.

“Steven has no need for you,” the alpha says flatly, “so he gifted you to me.”

The alpha digs a key out of his pocket and brandishes it as evidence.

Tony stills, cold seeping through him. He recognizes the key. That’s  _his_  key, in the sense that it will unlock Tony for the alpha to take. In a golden set with Tony’s bracelets and anklets, Tony wears a chastity device to prevent any foolish alphas from attempting to sample omegas above their station. Tony’s cock is trapped in a cage that connects to a solid metal piece that wraps around Tony hips and down the crack of his ass to cover his hole and then reconnect to the cage.

The blacksmiths are of course not allowed to fit the device to Tony, are not allowed to see or touch Tony, and so the device is created from provided measurements. It is uncomfortable and chafes, and one the reasons Tony rarely went out in public where it would be required for him to wear. After tonight though, Tony will most likely never see it again. His virginity will no longer need to be safeguarded, locked behind metal coverings - unless this alpha is possessive and requires Tony wear it all the time, or simply wishes to torture Tony.

The chastity device is what proves Tony as an omega with money and breeding and not one of the omegas as the whorehouse.

“That was not the agreement,” Tony presses, eyes on the key in the alpha’s hand. Obadiah was in charge of handing Tony off to the warlord. Obadiah would have given the key to Lord Steven.

But Lord Steven could very well have handed the key to anyone after that. As long as the warlord keeps to the agreement to spare the Stark lands, who cares what he does with Tony?

“You were there?” the alpha asks, one eyebrow raised in challenge.

Tony flushes. He would never have been allowed to be present at political negotiations. No doubt this alpha had been, if he had this nice of tent and had been gifted Tony’s key. He would know more than Tony, and Tony curses that Obadiah had only stuck to vague promises about what happened rather than outlining the details. How was Tony supposed to know what to do?

The alpha steps closer. “I am the lead general of this army. Not quite the rank of a  _prince_ , but enough to satisfy the terms of the agreement,” he sneers. “Now strip.”

Tony stares in defiance for one moment before his mother’s advice comes back to him.  _Be smart._ Tony has been traded to save his people’s lives, and he will not jeopardize the peace he has bought. Tony unwraps the gauzy fabric, looking up through his lashes at the alpha.

The alpha’s face is blank, hard as stone. Tony doesn’t see any desire, any want in the alpha’s expression, and his stomach turns.

“May I at least have your name?” Tony asks as he takes his time stepping out of the only layer of clothing he wears. “I can call you alpha if you prefer, of course, but if I… Would I just call you general? Or -”

“James,” the alpha interrupts. “Call me James.”


End file.
